


run, run, run

by Skyzuki



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Trespasser DLC, ahhhh, i love dragon age, love my lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:18:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyzuki/pseuds/Skyzuki





	run, run, run

she’s running.

the stench of old blood and charred brick nearly suffocate her.

her lungs are burning, as though she’s been on this path for hours now. her chest heaving with painful, ragged breaths.

there’s a blockage in her throat that prevents her cries for help to be heard, and trying to scream only makes it worse.

no enemy pursues her, yet she keeps running. pillars are crumbling around her, seemingly without reason.

the sky is red, and for a moment, she is relieved that there is no sickly green light being cast upon her environment.

it’s times like these when she can barely recall when the sky was blue. when the days were kind, when the air was warm, when mamae lulled her to sleep after dinner.

there is a thunderous roar in the distance. a sound that could only be produced by a dragon, or demon, or both. she hears the chilling _flap_ of the creature’s wings, but she sees nothing.

her legs give out, now. she gracelessly falls to the ground in a heap of limb, and she cries. her face is crushed into the mud, and she cannot will herself to move any longer.

there are footsteps, then. not soft, sneaky ones like mamae’s- but loud, booming ones that cause the very earth to shake beneath her.

she cries into the dirt, waiting for whatever is approaching to just finish her.

she breathes, sharply, sobs still tearing from her chest. her eyes open, and then immediately close again.

the lamp is lit, the flame is too bright.

there is no dragon, or demon shaking the ground beneath her, but bull is holding her shoulders firmly trying to pull her out of the fade completely.

she’s in her quarters, bull is here, she’s okay. she’s not wearing heavy armor, just her skin and one loose, wool sock (the other kicked off in her panic).

the sky is starry and black, just the way it’s supposed to be. the same sky that mamae lulled her to sleep underneath.

she’s an utter mess, all snot-nosed, wide-eyed, and puffy cheeked; a child having to be coddled after a bad dream.

she reaches out with her remaining hand and grabs for bull’s bicep, when it seems like the most solid thing to hold onto to. she _holds,_ and so does he.

there are no words, there is no room or reason for them. but, he shushes her, hums tunelessly into her hair. pulls her into his lap when he’s sure that she’s aware of her surroundings.

this has happened countless nights, this will happen until the day she dies.

her sobs don’t cease when he holds her, but she feels safer once he does. she tries to find a solid grip on his back, shoulder, chest, _anything._ her hand is too small to feel like she can truly catch a solid grip on the fork she uses at lunchtime, let alone her almost comically large bedmate.

(her _hand_ , and she found it so hard to hold him when she had two)

the blockage in her throat clears eventually, it no longer hurts to breathe. he’s running his thumb along the base of her neck to the first few knobs of her vertebrae.

she’s breathing. she’s really breathing, now. nose and mouth pressed firmly against the solid muscle his shoulder, like she’s trying to inhale the sweaty, brutish, familiar scent of him- and she is.

he breathes with her, deliberately slow. enticing her to match his exhales, which she does.

without lifting her face, she feels for a horn, the scarred tissue of his ruined eye, the stubble along his jaw. she needs to know that he’s here, that he’s real.

he whispers _kadan_ to her, she would respond _vhenan_ if her voice were recovered.

he is real, she is real.

she’s breathing. she’s breathing.


End file.
